


Deciding Fate

by jackabelle73



Series: Dark Castle Days (and Nights) [2]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: A Monthly Rumbelling, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-31
Updated: 2017-08-31
Packaged: 2018-12-22 06:57:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11962113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jackabelle73/pseuds/jackabelle73
Summary: A fill for the August non-smut prompt at a-monthly-rumbelling.tumblr.com. The prompt was "runaway bride." I decided to answer it with a slight variation of canon events.





	Deciding Fate

When the hovering of the maids, dressmakers, and well-meaning matrons finally became too much, Belle asked them all to leave, on the pretext that she wanted to compose herself before the ceremony. It took more effort than she would have liked to make the request civil. Right now, all her energy was needed to keep from screaming her imminent hysteria to the ceiling.

“Are you sure you don’t have any questions, milady?” One of the older women paused in the doorway, still eyeing Belle with concern. She’d been the first to enter the preparation room this morning, and it soon became clear that she’d arrived before the others so she could educate Belle about her wedding night.

Belle had put her off firmly. She knew what she needed to know, she told her. Her mother had covered that topic before her death. Belle may not know everything that would be expected in her marriage bed tonight, but she knew… the mechanics. Enough so that she wouldn’t shriek in shock when Gaston imposed himself on her.

So she’d brushed aside the matron’s counsel this morning, and now urged her out the door after the others had already left. “Please, I just need a moment to myself,” she pleaded, and shut the door in the woman’s face, lowering the bar to lock herself in before slumping against the wood.

She  _had_  gotten a talk from her mother after her engagement. And she’d already had a vague idea, even before that. She wasn’t totally ignorant about what would happen tonight. She’d known what she was agreeing to when she accepted his proposal. But… now the day was here. The wedding guests were gathering, for as elaborate a ceremony that could be managed during wartime. Her wedding night was only hours away, and the panic that she’d been tamping down with sheer will since taking Gaston’s hand, was beating with renewed force against her defenses.

He was just so  _big_. And nothing she’d seen since meeting him, convinced her that he was capable of gentleness, patience, or restraint, the very qualities a nervous bride would hope for her husband to have.

She’d witnessed his  _lack_  of restraint…. bile rose in her throat at the memory of the bloody gouges on the young ogre’s back. She retched, and ran to the basin to spit up before she vomited on her wedding gown.

She straightened, groping for a towel to wipe her mouth before spreading it over the basin to cover it, hiding the evidence of her panic just as Gaston hid his darker side from her father, from anyone in a position of power. She alone had seen his eyes glow red in the mirror. She alone knew that the adolescent ogre had been unharmed when she left, and been tortured in her absence. Gaston maintained an image of gallantry and gentlemanly conduct when others were present. But left to his own devices, with no witness to his misdeeds, his true character made itself known. And what would that mean for their consummation, when she was alone with him behind a locked door, bound by her word, by tradition, and by a marriage contract to obey her husband?

That moment in the stables, when Gaston had knelt before her and held his hand out, with her father looking on with his hope balancing on a knife-edge…she’d known it was a mistake to say yes. But what choice had she had?  The lives of her people weighed against her right to her own body, her future, and her independence… how could she refuse?

She could hear some of those people arriving, the sounds of their chatter carrying from the courtyard below through the open window. Belle went over to look, observing the carriages stop at the door to deliver the invited nobility. From her vantage point above the courtyard, she could look over the castle walls to the distant battlefield, where she knew that brave men were fighting and dying every moment. She could even hear the distant clash of weapons.

She would willingly end the Ogres War by volunteering herself – and  _only_ herself – to be torn limb from limb by the ogres. One person’s life for hundreds, maybe thousands. It was her duty to serve her people. She would be fulfilling the destiny she was born to. So if she would give her life, why did the sacrifice she was making today, seem so much worse?

If she died for her people, at least it would be over. There would be no dying by slow degrees, no withering away inside as she denied everything that she was, to fulfill the commitment she’d made. And she would die knowing that the population of Avonlea would survive her. That they would rebuild their towns, grow crops again. They would go back to the simple life they had enjoyed before the war. They would be free to make plans again… like getting married. Belle hoped that they would do so with partners that they wanted to marry, without being coerced.

She hadn’t chosen her husband-to-be, but she’d agreed to marry him today. For the sake of her people, for the chance that they could live. Just a chance, she reminded herself. Not a certainty. But a sliver of a chance was all she could offer her people. She didn’t have any other options.

Wait… that wasn’t entirely true. There was one other thing she could try, but it came with its own risks. How desperate would she have to be, to attempt that?

 _He_  had said something about desperation. She could still hear his mocking voice, the way he whispered to her as he leaned close enough for her to see his strangely striated eyes. “All I need… is one… desperate… soul. How desperate are you, princess?”

She squeezed her eyes shut and before she could second-guess herself, whispered, “Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin, Rumplestiltskin!”

She waited, eyes tightly closed and breathing quick and shallow in the constricting bodice. Her heart hammered so hard she could hear it in her ears, like galloping hoofbeats. After several interminable seconds, she felt a change in the air… magic rippled through the room, through her, before it settled into the low vibration she’d felt the first time she summoned the Dark One. He seemed to change the very feel of the air in the room, when he was present. She opened her eyes to see him perched on the edge of the stool where she’d sat just a short time ago to have her hair styled.

“Well, well, well…. are congratulations in order? I can’t remember the last time I was invited to a wedding! You should have sent me a proper invitation, then I could have brought a gift.” He scanned her frankly up and down. “Turn around, dearie, let me get a proper look at your gown.”

“What? No,” she refused, flustered. She took a breath and attempted to sound authoritative. She was negotiating for the very lives of her people. “I didn’t call you here to attend my wedding. I summoned you for… something else.”

He giggled, that same high-pitched gleeful noise she remembered. He crossed his legs at the knee and perched his clasped hands on them, looking strangely prim in his dark leather. “I’m listening.”

“The last time, you said….” She stopped, and he only raised an eyebrow, waiting for her to continue. “You said to call you back when I was desperate enough.”

“I did. And are you?”

“That depends on the deal you’re offering,” she responded. “What is it you want, in return for ridding the ogres from Avonlea?”

“So glad you finally asked! What I want, dearie, is….” He lifted one long black claw to point at her. “You.”

For a moment, she didn’t understand. And when she did, gaped at him for a moment before recovering enough to wave – nonsensically at the window, as if she expected him to fly out of it – and command him, “Get out! If I were happy about selling my body for this cause, I’d have married Gaston the same day he proposed this farce. I didn’t call you here just to get the same vile,  _monstrous_ offer!”

Before she could blink, he was in front of her. Close enough to touch, though he didn’t. Close enough for her to smell herbs and well-oiled leather, and something else that reminded her of wet grass after a hard rain.

“You mistake my meaning, princess.” His voice was low but intense, all flippancy gone. “I’ve never denied being a monster. But not  _that_  kind of monster. Your virtue would be safe with me.” He was standing at the window, again with no idea on her part how he’d gotten there so fast, looking out. “Looks like the last guests are rushing in, fashionably late. It’s almost time, isn’t it?”

On cue, the large clock in the hall began tolling the hour.

“Yes,” Belle said faintly, hearing her fate draw closer with each echoing chime. She looked at the door, where someone would surely be arriving any moment to escort her to the ceremony, and at the strange sorcerer who stood with his back to the window now, watching her silently. “So what  _did_  you mean, when you said you wanted me?”

“I need a maid for my castle. Someone to cook and clean, to fetch my tea and do my laundry. It’s your hands I’m after, and the labor they can perform.”

“That’s all?” she asked, incredulous. “And in return you’ll banish the ogres from this land?”

“Yes.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, suspicious. “You have powerful magic. Anything a maid could do for you, magic can do more quickly. Why would you need a maid?”

“Eh, eh eh…” He waggled an admonishing finger at her. “My reasons are my own, dearie, and it’s not your place to question them. Decide. Time’s almost up.”

There was a knock at the door, and her father’s voice. “Belle? I’m here to walk you down the aisle, sweetheart.” The door rattled in its frame. “Why is the door locked?”

“Just a moment, Papa!” she called. She called on all her courage and approached Rumplestiltskin, the Dark One, who could surely turn her to ash with a thought. “If I accept your deal…. then my family, my friends… they will all live?”

“Yes.”

“Belle?” Another knock at the door. “Gaston’s waiting.”

“I accept your deal,” she said, knowing that she was sealing her fate.

He cocked his head slightly, as if to judging her commitment. “It’s forever, dearie.”

“Will the ogres also be rid from Avonlea forever, as long as I stay in your service?”

He bowed. “You have my word.”

She nodded, and steeled herself. “Then you have mine. I will go with you… forever.”

At her announcement, his eyes lit up and his tittering laugh echoed through the room once more. “Deal!” He held out his hand. “Shall we?”

She reached a hand for his, but hesitated. “No, wait.” His eyes narrowed, and she realized that she no longer had any right to make demands. She was his servant now; she’d agreed to it. “Please,” she amended. “Just one moment, please.”

He dropped his outstretched hand and rocked back on his heels, projecting an exaggerated air of patience.

She turned and ran to the door, picking up her voluminous skirts so as not to trip on them. “Papa?” she called through the door. “Papa, I found another way. Our people will be safe now. You’ll be safe.”

“Belle, what are you talking about? Open this door and talk to me.” The door rattled again.

“I’m sorry, Papa. I can’t do that.” If she opened that door, if her father saw Rumplestiltskin and knew of her plan to go with him, if she saw her father’s face and had to say good-bye to him without a door between them, she’d never be able to go. “I love you, Papa.”

“Belle? Something’s wrong. Open this door, right now!” This time the door did more than rattle. There was a resounding thud, like something had been hurled against the other side. Her father’s body, she realized.

“Goodbye, Papa!” she called, as she returned to Rumplestiltskin, quickly as she could in her fancy shoes. “Will you…” She hesitated, not sure how he would react.

“Yes?”

“Will you defeat the ogres before we go? I need to see it for myself.”

“So little faith in the Dark One,” he chided. “It’s already done. Look.”

Disbelieving, she went to the window. Already the air over the battlefield was beginning to clear, and she could no longer hear the distant sounds of violent conflict. A silence had descended upon Avonlea, the likes of which it hadn’t known for over a year. Below, the wedding guests were exiting the castle, looking toward the battle zone and pointing, but none of them said a word, as if afraid of breaking a spell. Rumplestiltskin’s spell. Or curse. She didn’t care how he’d done it. All that mattered was that the war was over, and her people were safe. Now they could begin the long process of recovery and begin to rebuild Avonlea to its former beauty.

Belle smiled at the calm view before her, and didn’t even try to stop the tears that slid down her face. As much as she would like to be here to lead her people in the recovery process, and help them mourn each fallen soldier, and work alongside her father to oversee the reconstruction of their town, that was no longer her fate. She’d done her part, and now it was time to fulfill the bargain she’d made.

She returned to Rumplestiltskin, and held out a hand to him as Maurice’s voice came through the door again. She hadn’t realized he’d fallen silent for several moments as she observed the effects of her deal.

“Belle? I’m getting word from the front that the fighting has stopped. The ogres are gone! What happened? What did you do, Belle?”

“Good-bye, Papa!” she called, as the Dark One took her hand. His fingers were surprisingly soft, and somewhat cooler than her own. “I love you!”

The last thing she heard, as magic swept her up and the room faded from view, was another thud as her father threw himself against the door again. She locked eyes with Rumplestiltskin, noting that he looked very pleased with himself as he swept them away. Her father would get in eventually, to find nothing but an empty room, and she knew he would grieve her loss. But he would be safe, as would the rest of Avonlea. Thanks to her.

As the magic faded and she found herself, still holding hands with Rumplestiltskin, in a cavernous hall that by itself would surely take an entire day to clean, Belle realized that she should have changed clothes before the Dark One whisked them here. It was going to be difficult to perform maid’s duties in a wedding gown.


End file.
